I parked the white truck next to a small cedar cabin near the tree line.

The air up here smelled strongly of pine needles and clean, cold earth.

I grabbed a cardboard box from the passenger seat and walked up the three wooden steps to the front porch.

A heavy oak rocking chair sat facing the wide green valley below.

I went inside, filled a metal kettle at the tap, set it on the small electric stove, and turned the dial to high.

The kitchen was barely bigger than my old farm office, but the countertops were brand-new butcher block.